


Le Courage de Parler

by Charlotte (Soana)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Crew as Family, Disability, Feelings, Gen, Injury, Mostly Canon Compliant, Mute Vinsmoke Sanji, Muteness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Red-Leg Zeff's Good Parenting, Sanji doesn't become stupid around women, Scars, Serious Injuries, Sign Language, Trauma, Vinsmoke Judge A+ Parenting, because i can't stand that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soana/pseuds/Charlotte
Summary: Zeff isn’t sure how he got the responsibility of a mute kid, but he still teaches him how to cook. Until one day, a brat with a straw hat destroys his floating restaurant, claims to be the next king of pirates, and tries to take his kid across the world with him.Quite an unusual way to start the day.. . .Being mute means it’s easy to hide secrets, and his past has left more scars than his crewmates will ever know. Sanji isn’t planning on telling anyone. It’s in the past, after all. It’s not like it’s going to come back to haunt him. Right?. . .Or, Sanji is mute because of his shitty biological father, but still joins the Straw Hats.
Relationships: Aka Ashi no Zeff | Red-Leg Zeff & Vinsmoke Sanji, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	Le Courage de Parler

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. How are you all?  
> I'm posting this as a one shot for now, as this first chapter can be read as such, but if I find the courage to write more, I'll turn this into a multiple chapter fic. I plan to write about everyone's reaction to Sanji's muteness, as well as detail what happenned in his childhood that took his voice away. I'll edit the tags then to add each of the strawhats members (who don't appear until chapter 2). Also, this is unbeta-ed, and English isn't my first language. I often go back and read what I already posted to catch any mistakes there might be, but I have no idea how, there is always a typo left lol
> 
> One Piece is its own world, and since I don’t know any sign language, I invented them.
> 
> Now go grab a tea, sit comfortably, and enjoy.

**Les Pieds Rouges**

* * *

The storm was raging when Zeff put his foot onto the deck, careful not to let his black combat boots slip on rain water. His crew jumped onboard right after him, swords and guns in hands, screaming about the kind of treasures they would find and running everywhere to get them. A few of them stayed behind and gathered their enemies in a corner of the deck, making sure none of them would attack.

‘Enemies’, Zeff scoffed in his head. These people aren’t dangerous. Simple weaklings traveling between two islands and transporting all kinds of goods in the process. Neither Marines nor pirates. Normal people needing to go from point A to point B. Most of them are trembling, hiding behind those in front of them. As soon as he makes eye contact, they would take a step backward, try to make themselves smaller, or even avoid his eyes.

Not caring if it scares his hostages, Zeff strikes the ground with his foot, the sound powerful despite the wind fighting to deafen them.

‘’Don’t forget not to take any food!’’ he shouts at his crew, some of them grumbling, but all of them screaming an ‘Aye Captain!’ in answer. Zeff wasn’t there to doom a crew to a certain and long and painful death in the middle of East Blue’s sea. He only came for the treasures, and if everyone complied, there would be no death.

They shouldn’t stay long, he knows. The storm is only going to get worse and he doesn’t want to be here to see the waves growing taller than his own ship. The sun has already disappeared behind black clouds; navigating will be complicated, no need to make it harder.

Soon, his crew members start coming back to him, arms full of heavy-looking bags of jewelries and coins. He verifies all of them and kicks Jeremy in the head when he tries to smuggle food away. Jeremy’s booty stays there while the rest is being hauled on to their treasure room.

Until one of them comes back with a kid slung over his shoulder.

‘’Dan, what is this?’’

Dan walks to him, careful of the water and of the kid’s tiny feet hitting his torso in his struggle to break free.

‘’I found this one hiding behind the fridge. He tried to stab me, the idiot.’’

Zeff lifts an eyebrow. And indeed, Dan’s shirt is torn in a straight line on his side, a bit of blood seeping through the scratch. (What the hell does Dan think he is supposed to be doing with a kid?) But he can’t deny his curiosity. Dan is one of his best fighters. For him to get injured by a small child? This certainly is unusual. Zeff grabs his long braided moustache and starts caressing it in thought.

‘’Turn around so I can see his face.’’

Dan executes himself and Zeff sees-

Blond.

The kid sure has a shiny hair colour. It reminds him of his own hair, before he got old and it turned a pale yellow. The child stops struggling and lifts his head up to look at him, without wavering, straight in the eyes… or rather eye. The left part of the kid’s face is hidden behind a long bang of hair. The only pale blue eye visible is ornamented with a rather interesting and quite unique eyebrow ending in a spirale. His cheek is starting to turn blue, probably where Dan hit him to defend himself.

Zeff keeps looking down, to the white cook shirt and apron he is wearing, to skinny arms attached to a skinny form (he can’t be more than eight, or nine, maybe), to the book the kid seems not to want to let go of. The Captain tilts his head and reads-

_Fishes of All Blue._

His mind stops.

All Blue. The legendary ocean combining all Five Seas. A place where North Blue, East Blue, South Blue, West Blue and Grand Line all collide. Where all the marine creatures existing in this world can be found, all in the same place. A paradise for fishermen and cooks.

This is the Great Sea Zeff had once dreamed of finding. The one which pushed him to try his luck on Grand Line, because if such a sea exists, it can only be somewhere on Grand Line.

‘’All Blue?’’ he whispers. In the wind and the thundering sky, he knows only the kid hears him. ‘’Do you think it exists?’’

The kid quickly grabs the book with both hands and presses it to his chest, like he thinks Zeff might take it from him. Then he frowns, and his lips tilt out in a small pout. But when the kid nods his head with assurance, Zeff can’t help but smirk. How many times has he been told All Blue doesn’t exist? How many times has someone taken the book from him and crushed all his dreams? And still, here he is. Facing a _pirate_ and telling in his face that a legend is true.

The Captain can’t help but ruffle the kid’s hair. ‘’You sure are a feisty one, aren’t you?’’

‘’Don’t you dare lay a hand on Sanji!’’

(Without knowing why, Zeff stores the name in his memory.)

Zeff drops his hand and his smile before looking toward the hostages. The one who spoke to him is - if he can trust his clothing choice - a cook who had taken a step forward. But just one. Because one of Zeff’s men was quick to put his sword below the man’s throat with a menacing smirk. The cook's legs are shaking, and his hands are floating around his sides, not sure what to do with them; but his eyes are filled with determination and staring angrily at Zeff.

‘’Don’t-’’ he starts again, but Zeff scoffs.

‘’And why would I do that? As long as he behaves, I have no reason to hurt him.’’ Zeff then gestures toward the hostages. ‘’Put him with the others.’’

‘’Yes, Captain.’’

And Dan does as ordered. The cook seems surprised by the decision, but he wisely doesn’t say anything. He just grabs the kid’s shoulder when Dan puts him down and pulls him behind his peers, like being hidden by a group of civilians will protect him.

Zeff rolls his eyes. He has no intention of stealing a kid just because he believes All Blue exists too. What the hell would he do with a kid? It’s just a weak thing to protect, just another thing to take care of, and he can’t be bothered with the responsibility. The child’s parents are probably among the hostages, too. He wouldn’t be surprised if the cook is his father. He might be a pirate, but he is not the kind who breaks families apart.

He is only here for the treasure.

The storm is getting stronger, the boats are rocking harder. They shouldn’t stay any longer. Turning away from the group of scared people, Zeff shouts, ‘’Are we done here?’’ and receives a lot of positive answers, but a few are similar to a ‘No! Barry isn’t back yet!’ and-

CRACK

A mast breaks, but Zeff has no time to wonder which boat the fucking mast is from before it falls onto them, breaking the deck in two. Screams are swallowed by the sea as everyone gets thrown overboard.

Zeff opens his eyes against the salty water and sees both boats crashing against each other over him, breaking into tiny tiny pieces. Here goes his trusty ship… Wood and furniture and bags of treasures and clothes and bodies are floating around him. Some bleeding. Some not. Some moving.

Some not.

The Captain turns his head here and there and, which is the best path to swim up, the current is strong, if he hits something he is done for, he needs to act _fast_ -

Something shiny catches his eyes. Blond hair slowly sinking downward and he doesn’t think-

He dives deeper and grabs the kid.

* * *

When the kid wakes up, he tells him of the situation.

The storm and the waves washed them up on this rock. They have nowhere to go. The strong current will crash them against the stone if they leave, and they have no way of climbing back up if they do. The only hope is to spot a ship and make them help us. Here is your bag of food, I know it is smaller than mine but I’m an adult, I eat more than you. Take care to ration it, we might be here for a long time. Now go to your part of the rock and don’t come to me unless help is coming.

The kid doesn’t seem convinced, but a few kicks to the butt is all it takes to make him leave.

Zeff sighs, sits down, facing the sea. His own bag won’t be of any use, unless he suddenly gains the power to digest jewelries. (With all this money, he could stop piratery and open a restaurant. Too bad he can’t spend any of his berry while on this rock.)

He has no way of knowing how long they will be stuck here. If he hopes to survive, he needs to eat. So why did he give all the food to a boy he knows nothing about? A boy he just met?

(A boy who dreams of All Blue.)

Zeff shakes his head. What is done is done. He doesn’t steal food. Especially from a child. He needs to find something else to eat. But there is absolutely nothing on the rock. At least they have puddles of water which are easily filled by rain, so hydration won’t be an issue.

He looks down at his feet, frowns. What if…?

The man finds a sharp rock, grabs a rope the sea gifted him with the bags, and ties it strongly just below his left knee.

There is food right in front of him. He walks on it everyday, fights with it anytime he needs it. Meat is meat, he thinks, no matter where it comes from. It’s going to hurt, he knows. But it’s not like he has anything to numb the pain. The sea hasn’t been so kind as to leave him a few medical supplies too. And he can’t make a sound, or the kid might come to see what’s happening. This is not a sight a child should face.

He takes off his belt and puts it in his mouth. He bites a few times before spitting it out and folding it over itself. When it’s thicker, he tries again.

Alright.

It’s time. The longer he waits, the weaker he will be for the operation, until he won’t be able to survive it. His hands shake around the rock. It’s understandable. Without his foot, he won’t be able to fight. He’ll have to give up piracy. But his crew is dead, his ship down the ocean’s belly.

It’s alright. He was thinking of stopping after Grand Line’s failure anyway. His adventures on East Blue are far from interesting. But his crew still had his back. And the ocean is his home. He couldn’t give up his men, and can’t spend his life on the ground.

But he will survive. He wants to survive. He wants to keep cooking, and he needs both his hands to do so. A foot seems such a small price to pay for his life.

Well, no time like today to revise his career path. And before he can change his mind, he brings the rock down.

* * *

Munching on his bone to give his mouth something to do, and his stomach the illusion of being filled. The horizon is as still as ever. He has counted the waves so many times, he’s not sure he understands numbers anymore.

And he thinks, it would be nice, a floating restaurant. A boat traveling the seas to feed the unfortunates. Those betrayed by the ocean which finds fun in preventing them from stocking up food. Those whose bodies started to turn against them, eating their own flesh to stay alive, if just a little bit longer.

Zeff’s stomach has long turned silent, but he still gets the cramps. They are stronger and stronger and he knows he’ll soon won’t mind tearing his own teeth apart if it means he can eat his bones.

Sometimes, he wonders if the kid is still alive.

* * *

Zeff didn’t count the days, but he knows it’s been way too fucking long when he hears them. Soft shaky steps of tiny bare feet on the rock. The kid is alive, and it’s nice to know he survived, but there are only two possible reasons for him to be here. He tries not to hope, and instead he asks,

‘’What are you doing here, brat? Did you see a ship?’’

The kid doesn’t answer, but he stops trying to be discreet. He hears running, and when the sound of ripping cloth echoes in the silence of the ocean, he knows help isn’t coming.

Zeff’s bag of jewelry spills its contents onto the ground, quickly accompanied by the clank of a knife falling down.

He looks over his shoulder. The kid is even tinier than he remembers, his form thinner. His white cooking clothing turned gray with holes here and there, with deeper stains under his armpits, around his neck, and probably his back and butt. His bones are sharp and protruding everywhere his torn clothes can’t hide. If the kid had any muscle before, he certainly doesn’t have anything left now. His matted hair is darker than Zeff remembers it to be, and a dark purple circle paints the underside of his eye which is staring at the treasure like it can’t understand what it is.

What a pitiful state for a child to be in.

Zeff doesn’t move, even when the kid comes to him and grabs his arm to shake him, fat tears rolling down his sunken cheeks, mouth opening and closing, trying to form words but not succeeding.

Then the man hears more than he sees the quiet thud of a body giving up. He blinks. He looks down. The kid is on his ass, sniffing, leaning on his trembling arms behind himself. His blue eye is looking down at-

Ah yes. His foot. He nearly forgot about that.

‘’Gotta eat something to stay alive, right?’’ he says blankly. But, unsurprisingly, the kid doesn’t find it funny.

And Zeff can only watch as the kid realises what he did. That he gave him all their food and sacrificed his foot instead. That he saved him at the cost of his own life.

The young face crumbles, breaths struggle to fill lungs despite the tears, weak muscles fight against spasms of emotion and pain.

The kid can’t talk in this state, but Zeff understands the question in his eye; so he answers.

‘’Because we have the same dream.’’

* * *

He doesn’t remember the ship finding them. He doesn’t remember a lot about his convalescence.

But he does remember the taste of the first thing he ate. It was a pretty bad soup, but on his starving tongue, it was heavenly.

He remembers watching the kid slowly gaining back weight and strength, wondering why he felt so warm at the sight.

He remembers the doc giving him his first pig leg - a wooden stick that would never survive one of his kicks (it didn’t) - and the first shaky steps he took.

He remembers the kid stealing food, filling his stomach to the brim and throwing it all up soon after. But he sure learned his lesson, as he never did it again.

He remembers discovering the kid took to hiding food instead, and left him be, as it was healthier than gobbling everything up.

He remembers stealing back his bag of treasure the crew told him they hadn’t found, before leaving the ship with the kid.

* * *

He remembers finding out about Sanji’s little problem.

They had been found three days ago, and the kid was back to bed, recovering from all the energy stealing food and throwing up took from his weakened body. But he wasn’t sleeping. They both sleept so much already that they can’t close their eyes even if they wanted to. Well, at least their saviors provided them with books to pass the time. The kid didn’t seem to like the children stories he had in hand; but as he had nothing else to do, he kept reading.

‘’You shitty brat.’’ Zeff said, gaining his attention. ‘’Who told you you could steal food? Be sure that as soon I get a new leg I’m gonna fucking kick you for that!’’

The kid pinches his lips and frowns at him. He seems to think about his answer for a moment, but in the end, he just shrugs.

The man’s eye twitches. ‘’Why aren’t you saying anything, brat!?’’

The kid sighs and very obviously puts his book on his knees. Then he points to his own throat before making a ‘X’ with both arms.

Zeff stares at him for a moment, not understanding, until-

Sanji hasn’t said a single word since they met.

Zeff frowns; and slowly, he asks, ‘’Are you… mute?’’

The kid nods and does a thumb up, and the man’s eyebrows shoot up his hairline.

How come he has not realized this before? Sure, the circumstances were quite exceptional, but- come on, he got a mute kid? How the hell did that happen?

Soon, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he can’t stop his mouth from asking, ‘’Were you born this way, or is it an injury?’’

Instead of looking offended by the question, the kid only lifts an eyebrow.

‘’What?’’

The shitty brat just crosses his arms and waits. It takes a few seconds, but eventually-

_Shit, ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions are probably easier._

Pretending he hadn’t just done the stupidest thing in his life, Zeff grabs his moustache and rephrases his question.

‘’Is this from birth?’’

A shake of the head. _No._

‘’An injury, then?’’

Sanji seems to hesitate, and he looks down at his book when he answers. _No_.

‘’Then what the hell is it?’’

The kid just picks up his book and very obviously ignores him, so Zeff throws a pillow at him.

‘’Answer me, you shitty brat!’’

* * *

_Trauma_ , he realizes a few days later. But he doesn’t say anything. The kid didn’t want to talk about it then, and a few days are probably not gonna be enough to change his mind.

So he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

In the end, he never asks.

* * *

With the money, he bought them a small house in the middle of a calm town. They opened a restaurant at ground level and lived upstairs. With the rest of the treasure and the few berries they made along the way, Zeff got a shipwright to build them a boat.

He taught the kid how to cook, mostly because he couldn’t be bothered to manage the restaurant all by himself. He taught him not to fight with his hands, as they are a cook’s treasure. He taught him how to fight correctly instead, because the world is not so kind that someone can hope to survive without being able to defend themselves. He taught him not to fight women, to respect them and to never lift a hand against them, their lives being hard enough already without a man harassing them.

The town had a pretty large bookstore, though. It hadn’t been hard for Zeff to find a few books about sign language. He once asked the kid if he knew any sign, but the young cook seemed baffled by the idea a language composed only of hand gestures existed.

On his way out of the store, a blue book catches his eyes.

‘ _Fishes of All Blue._ ’ the title says.

He takes it.

* * *

(He never gives the kid the book, just puts it in their bookshelf with all the others.)

(And if he notices it disappearing from time to time, he doesn’t say anything.)

* * *

Two weeks after they moved in, Zeff loudly drops the books about sign language on the kitchen table. The kid grabs the first one of the pile, an ugly textblock stupidly named ‘ _Sign Language For Dummies_ ’. He quickly skips through the pages, eye stopping here and there to look at the hands drawn onto the paper and the small explanations written next to them.

Zeff lets him be for a few seconds, before he says, ‘’We’re gonna learn that.’’

If his ears were better, he’s pretty sure he would have heard the kid’s neck cracking with how fast the brat lifts his head to look at him.

 _We?_ the young cook mouths, making Zeff snort.

‘’Are you stupid?’’ he shouts, kicking him on the head for good mesure. ‘’What good would it do if I can’t understand you, you shitty brat?’’

The kid rubs his head and blinks a few times, before a small smile makes his way onto his face and-

_oh_

Isn’t this the first time Sanji smiled?

The kid then drops the book back on the pile and loudly plants both his hands onto the table, nodding fervently at Zeff. The man pretends not to notice the pale blue eye, shinier than a few moments before.

And so, they get to work.

* * *

He is quite surprised by the speed at which they both learn sign language. But, he guesses, when it’s important enough and used often, it is easy to remember.

He quickly learns the brat is a hot head, has a bad mouth (or hands?), and isn’t afraid to say what he thinks, whether it’s good or bad. The kid is also smart; he has no trouble remembering recipes and tips and tricks, and he often throws back at Zeff his own words (which is highly annoying… but it also gives him a lot of reasons to kick him, which is a lot less annoying).

* * *

One day, when they both know enough signs to understand simple sentences, Zeff asks, ‘’Where are your parents?’’

The kid stops stirring the soup, and Zeff is happy to see him lower the flames to compensate for the lack of movement, before he turns to him.

He’s looking at his hands when he carefully signs ‘mom’ and ‘dead’. The Chef isn’t surprised. This world isn’t kind, and the kid seems way too mature for someone his age.

Zeff lifts an eyebrow. ‘’And your father?’’

The kid shrugs, and he lifts a hand to rub at his own head before looking away.

Zeff grabs his moustache and thinks. He remembers a protective cook on the ship he attacked on the day of the storm. One who didn’t have the same blond hair as Sanji’s, but if his mother was the one with the hair, it could work.

‘’Was it that cook on the ship?’’

The kid shakes his head and goes back to the soup, clearly deciding the conversation is over.

Zeff wants to ask more, to insist for the answers, but he knows by now the kid is awfully stubborn. He won’t get anything out of him if he doesn’t want to. So he just clicks his tongue, mutters a ‘brat’, and tells him the soup smells wrong, you haven’t poured enough coriander.

After a bit of thinking, Zeff can only conclude his father either abandoned him, or Sanji simply doesn’t know about him.

(Unfortunately, he has a feeling it’s the first option.)

* * *

_:I want to find All Blue.:_ the kid tells him one day.

‘’Heh, of course you do, brat.’’ he says, then promptly kicks the kid for burning the butter.

* * *

When Zeff enters the kitchen this morning, there is a smell. It’s not the smell of something being cooked, nor of the soap they use to wash the dishes. It's more… smoke-y. But it’s only when he hears someone coughing out air that his brain registers it.

The damn brat is looking through the pots with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

‘’Who said you could smoke!?’’ he shouts, feeling a bit satisfied when the kid jumps in surprise.

The young cook turns to him, eyebrow frowned. A pack of cigarettes is peaking out from the front pocket of his apron, and Zeff wonders where the hell he got it.

 _:I’m not a kid anymore, shitty old man!:_ the kid signs between airy coughs.

Zeff blinks. So this is what this is about? Why do kids always want to grow up so fast? Well, whatever. It’s the brat’s life, he can shit on his own health if it pleases him, but there is _one thing_ he won’t accept-

‘’Get out!’’ he shouts, lifting his wooden foot menacingly. ‘’If I see you smoking in the kitchen, I’m smashing your head to that wall!’’

The kid is smart enough to run out of the door.

* * *

The restaurant goes well. So well that it’s becoming harder to provide for all the clients. They need more hands to cut potatoes, serve the dishes, clean up the room, wash dirty plates… So he puts out an advertisement to recruit more cooks. Patty and Carne both make an impression. They can’t cook for shit, but they can definitely fight, and he needs people to protect his precious kitchen more than he needs good cooks. And if he managed to transform the kid into a decent cook, there is no reason he can’t do it with those two.

But he warns them about Sanji before they can make the same mistake as him.

‘’The piece of shit can’t talk?’’ Patty asks, blinking in surprise. ‘’So how does he communicate?’’

Zeff crosses his arms and leans back on the counter. ‘’Sign language.’’

Patty and Carne both look at each other, before a large predatory smile grows on their faces.

‘’I wanna learn!’’

‘’Me too!’’

The Chef smirks. He expected no less from them.

(He gives them the half-dozen of books on sign language they own. They learn slowly, but it’s worth it.)

And Zeff pretends not to notice the awed look in the kid’s eye when he learns about it. But he sadly can’t keep a smile off his face at the sheer happiness on the kid’s face the first time the new cooks don’t need Zeff to translate.

* * *

His ship will be done in a few days. Soon, Zeff will finally be able to go back to the sea. It’s like the wait has been impossibly long, but in reality, it had just been a year and a few months since the storm, since he lost his crew, his ship, all he had. A year and a few months he spent building his life back up from the ground. A year and a few months he spent making money for his new boat and learning to live with an ungrateful brat. His life sure took an unexpected turn, but still- he doesn’t regret anything.

He is in his room, packing away his meagre possessions, when the kid comes to him.

‘’What is it, brat? Are you done in your room?’’

The kid shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. Zeff pauses, a couple of folded sheets in hands, and frowns. The brat seems… hesitant about something, and the kid doesn’t do hesitant. He knows what he wants and is not afraid to ask for it. So to see him fidgeting, playing with his nails one moment, rubbing the back of his neck the other, looking at the floor, correcting his stance every few seconds- well, it’s unsettling.

Whatever it is, Zeff has a feeling it’s important (at least for the kid), so he quickly puts his sheets in a box before sitting on his naked bed and looking at the brat, giving him his full attention.

It seems to work, as the kid stops moving as much. But it’s a few more seconds of silence before he takes a deep breath. And with one hand, Sanji pulls his bangs away.

Zeff has never seen the kid’s eyes - _plural_ \- before. His hair was always covering the left side of his face. Which is, in his opinion, a weird fashion statement, but in his long life, he has seen weirder stuff.

But never something as weird, or rather _alarming_ , as what he has in front of him right now.

‘’Shit…’’

A scar. It starts from up his hairline, creating a few small bald patches over his forehead. It goes down over his disappeared left eyebrow, nearly fully covering his eye - which is only a thin slit (and is it blind?) - and stops just below his cheekbone. The scar is rugged, and it looks like water flowed, taking skin away in its path.

This isn’t a birthmark, nor a malformation. This is an injury, a _serious_ one, as it might have taken his sigh away. This is the kind of wound a child shouldn’t have. And it’s old. A couple of years old, fully healed. Zeff couldn’t do anything about it even if he wanted to.

‘’What is this?’’ he breathes, then frowns, changing his question. ‘’What _did_ this?’’

Sanji puts his hair behind his ear so he has both hands to sign. He smacks the back of his right hand onto the palm of his left, before pretending his right hand is a cat paw and fake-scratching his mouth twice.

Zeff frowns. It’s a sign he doesn’t recognise, so it’s not good. He knows the signs for a lot of dangerous stuff: boiling oil, knife, fire, poison… He’s not sure he wants to learn another one.

The kid lifts a hand in a ‘wait here’ motion before fleeing the room. He comes back a few seconds later with one of their most advanced sign language books. With a focused look, he flips through the pages until he finds what he’s looking for. He gives the opened book to him, and Zeff reads-

 _Acid_.

His blood runs cold, and he can’t hide a quiet but sharp gasp. His eyes look back to the still exposed scar and fuck

Sanji’s face literally _melted away_.

‘’What happened?’’

The kid looks to the side and purses his lips. But then he sighs and looks back at him.

_:My brothers threw acid at me because I couldn’t run as fast as they did.:_

Zeff’s eyebrows shoot up his airline, but when they come down a few seconds later, it’s to express anger. His lips are folding away, showing his teeth, his eyes see red and he feels his veins popping in his neck and arms, while his feet itch to kick a few asses and paint themselves with their blood. He puts the book down next to him before it can be destroyed.

He doesn’t remember the last time he has been this angry. How could _anyone_ hurt his kid? How dare they hurt a fucking _child_? A person so young they can’t defend themself? And what a fucking stupid reason for doing something like that, too! So what if he lost a race against his brothers? They shouldn’t even have been able to find _acid_ in the first place!

‘’What kind of brother would do that?’’

The kid shrugs.

And Zeff- fuck, Sanji doesn’t even seem _bothered_ by the idea, like it was unsurprising it happened at all, or even _normal_. What kind of family did he grow up in?

‘’Where are they now?’’

 _:I don’t know.:_ the kid says, shrugging again. _:I left them and everything behind some time ago.:_

But then Sanji meets his gaze, looks at him straight in the eyes, unwavering, with the same confidence and the same certain and determined expression he has when he assures All Blue exists, and adds,

 _:And I’m_ **_not_ ** _going back.:_

And Zeff knows he’s not lying.

And good for him. He wouldn’t want the kid to go back to a place like this anyway. But he can’t let this go. The kid got _acid_ thrown at him, for god’s sake! He doesn’t care if the brat doesn’t want to get revenge, Zeff is definitely gonna kick some asses.

If his brat doesn’t know where his shitty brothers are, then Zeff will search for them. But the world is a vast place, he knows how hard it is to find someone, especially if you don’t have anything to go from, like a name, a profession, a crew, contact with someone who knows someone who knows someone… He needs more info.

‘’What’s your name?’’

The kid frowns, clearly not understanding where he is going with this, but he answers automatically with his name-sign. A hand in a loose fist, thumb against his upper lip, he then pulls the fist down while pointing his thumb, index and middle fingers to the side. A mouvement only needing one hand - whichever, for more flexibility - and happening in less than half a second, designating the number in his name.

_:Sanji.:_

But this is not what Zeff is looking for. ‘’No. What is your _real_ name?’’

The kid’s eyes narrow. He shakes his head, insists, _:Sanji.:_

Zeff sighs. ‘’No last name?’’

_:Not anymore.:_

The Chef puts an elbow on his knee and rubs his eyes; not caring that in this position, he can’t see if the brat wants to say something more. Well. He’s definitely not going to get anything from the kid.

Sanji left his family for a reason - that reason being pretty obvious... - and by doing so, he left all he was behind. If he went as far as to throw his own name away, then there is absolutely no turning back.

There is no way Zeff will be able to find those crappy people in this situation.

And what for? he thinks. Sanji is _here_ , now. Sanji is _safe_ from his brothers. And as long as the kid is too young to properly defend himself, Zeff is going to be here to kick asses in his place.

Zeff takes a deep breath and drops his hand. The kid’s face is still out in the open, and the scar is really ugly to look at.

‘’I see.’’ he says, more to fill the silence than anything else.

The Chef looks up, and the kid holds his gaze. If this is the kid he got, then this is the kid he will protect from future acid-throwing incidents. The kid in front of him has gone through shit, and even though Zeff is really curious as to what happened exactly, he has a feeling asking will only put salt in the wound. It won’t do any good. For any of them.

What is done is done, anyway. All he can do is make sure it won’t happen again.

Zeff closes his eyes and waves a hand in front of him. ‘’Well, suit yourself.’’

The kid takes a sharp intake of air, and when Zeff opens his eyes, he sees him blinking, looking surprised. One of his hands comes and goes in short movements, hesitating, before the kid deliberately points at Zeff and keeps signing his response.

_:You don’t have questions?:_

‘’Oh, I have lots of questions.’’ Zeff snorts, slapping his hands on his knees. ‘’But I’m not gonna force them out of you. It’s your life, and I don’t give a shit about what you did, as long as your future is better.’’

The Chef can’t keep a small smile off his lips at the astounded look on the kid’s face. So, deciding to go with it, he reaches out and ruffles the brat’s hair. Strands of blond hair are falling back down to hide the scar, but Sanji doesn’t break eye contact.

‘’Listen to me closely, ‘cause I won’t repeat myself. Know that I appreciate you trusting me with this. But trust goes both ways, so I trust you too. I’m not forcing you to tell me about your past. I trust that you’ll tell me of the important things that are still impacting you, that you need my help with. And I trust that what you don’t tell me about is just stuff that is behind you, that won’t come back to bite your ass later.’’

The kid’s eyes are shining when he turns his head down to hide them. Zeff doesn’t put his hand away and leaves it there, as support, while the kid sniffs and rubs his eyes, clearly trying to hide his tears. Zeff doesn’t say anything. Just waits for Sanji to regain control of his emotions.

And Zeff thinks. Could this bad history be the reason Sanji doesn’t talk? Could something have happened back there that forever silenced him? Even though Zeff promised not to ask, he can’t help but be curious. He can’t help but want every detail, no matter how painful, just to find that shitty family. He can’t help but want to put those brothers six feet underground. He can’t help but want to see his kid overcome his past and grow into a strong man that could kick his brothers’ asses should he cross path with them.

Eventually, the kid calms down and lifts his head. Zeff takes his hand away. Sanji’s eyes are red, and dried salty water is smeared all over his face, but he looks sure of himself when he nods once, hard - accepting this exchange of trust.

Zeff feels warm, and it takes a moment to understand he’s proud. He smirks.

‘’Now, if you’re done-’’ he starts, before lifting his wooden foot and kicking the kid’s side. ‘’Go back to packing, you shitty brat!’’

The kid runs away from the room, but not before signing _:Shut up, you old geezer!:_

‘’What did you call me, you piece of shit!?’’

* * *

‘’This is it.’’ Zeff says, looking at the boat-restaurant in front of him. ‘’The Baratier.’’

The kid’s eye is shining in excitement, while Patty and Carne are dancing in a circle hand in hand.

Something pulls on his apron, and Zeff looks down to see the brat smiling with determination.

_:You can count on me to make this the best restaurant in the world!:_

Zeff laughs. ‘’I don’t need your help for that, brat!’’


End file.
